Sunday, July 17, 2005

It's one of those days...

It's one of those days, where you don't wanna get out of bed. The world is spinning in your dream, and you anxiously readjust the alarm for extra 15 minutes of sleep but don't feel them passing by. You slide your feet lazily through the sheets, and stay still for a moment or two and the thought that crosses your mind is "Why?"

Yes, a very simple "Why?" It could be the "Why" of misery, or the "Why" of hope, or the "Why" of laziness. And for someone as young as me, it's the "Why do i exist?" Believe it or not, like any person my age that question bothers me a lot. I looked at the book on my table, and suddenly it hit me.

Virginia Woolf, one of my favorite authors, and a personal role model of mine. She wrote all the way battling with her insanity, she said she heard those voices, and at the time no one could understand it's the characters talking to her. Much like, how Gabrielle, Seth or even Marina whisper in my head most of the time. It's like they're telling me "Write our story on paper, and we'll leave you alone."

And in other times in the night i wake up anxious, and it's "Come on, grab a cup of coffee and work on our story till dawn. Bring us to life... bring us to life."

But i don't drink coffee remember?

Now at Virginia's time, that was typical insanity, but in my time a writer is allowed to wrestle with his demons and characters. They call, and you should answer back.. only i don't have the time. But then, that very familiar voice tells me "You don't have time for your own destiny?"